Waiting
by Emma Watson Rules
Summary: In a few months the baby will be born, but will he remain as a fatherless child for his whole life?


**PROMPT 3**  
**Describe your ideal fic (plus rating):** A very pregnant Pansy contemplates the possibility of a life without Harry Potter when he suffers an accident. PG-13  
**Dealbreakers (absolute no-no's):** No graphic violence.

"_Pansy," Harry shook his wife gently._

_Her eyes opened, with sleep thick in them._

"_There has been an attack in Knockturn Alley by some rampant death-eaters. I need to go. But I'll be back as soon as possible." He bent down and gave her a peck on her forehead. "I love you."_

"_Love you too," Pansy mumbled back before falling back asleep._

---

"Your father is a very brave man. He faced the Dark Lord by himself and defeated him singlehandedly when he was only seventeen. Do you know that he's the Boy-Who-Lived, baby?" Pansy murmured as her hand moved in circles around her round belly which grew bigger with each passing day. She was in a stark white room with no pictures, and only a window with its white curtains drawn. In front of her, a sleeping man lay on the twin bed, his pale pallor accentuated by the room's colour. He had been sleeping for a long time, way too long.

It had been several months since that horrible day. It was a freak accident; no one had expected it, and the events that followed haunted all the involved parties' minds every day. And every day, at exactly the same time, Pansy Parkinson would walk into the private ward and sit there, talking to her comatose husband, telling him all about her day and about the growing baby in her stomach. Within those six long months, her stomach had expanded greatly, and her whole wardrobe had been changed from fashionable, curve-hugging robes to looser-fitting maternity robes. Pansy herself had changed. The accident had affected her very core.

On the outside, the aristocratic Pansy Parkinson still made her rounds to the other pureblood families, as was what she was expected to, though less frequently then before, but she no longer saw the meaning in the false niceties. All these were just frivolous activities, and were meaningless. Hospital visits now took up most of her time.

"Pansy?" A voice broke into her thoughts. A motherly-looking woman stepped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Pansy's hand movements ceased immediately; her previously relaxed form tensed up. Through hooded eyes, she glanced at the woman briefly with obvious disdain in her eyes, then as if unperturbed, turned back to face her husband.

Molly Weasley slowly lowered herself into the chair beside Pansy's, and though fully aware of the younger woman's dislike of her and her family ventured a question.

"Any updates from the Healer?"

"No." was the curt reply.

There was a long pause.

"I haven't visited in quite some time, and I thought… it would be nice to visit," Molly told her. That statement was responded with a stoic silence. "Harry is like a son to us, a brother to my boys. He _is_ a son to us. And he _will_ wake up one day. The day _will_ come soon."

Molly Weasley knew that the other woman would not speak to her. Pansy Parkinson would only give people of her social ranking any time of the day; the Weasleys were not part of that ladder. But she also knew that to people who had somehow wormed their way into Pansy's heart, to be considered worthy, Pansy would give her utmost loyalty to them. Like Harry. Molly had seen it herself one day, when she had come across Pansy, arguing with the Healer who had told her that it would be near impossible for Harry to ever recover fully.

"How are you feeling, Pansy? Is the baby doing alright?"

"Yes," came the monosyllabic reply. The tone was on the verge between plain rudeness and formal politeness in response to a question. Molly frowned. Why couldn't the girl accept any comfort when it was right in front of her?

Molly stayed for a few more moments watching the unconscious Harry, then, she stood up to go. Just before she left, she reached out for Pansy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze of encouragement; the girl remained unmoved, her eyes trained on the sleeping form. Molly sighed and the left the room.

The moment Molly left, Pansy's shoulders relaxed slightly, her cold mask falling away, revealing her inner emotions. Part of her had been truly tempted to confide in Molly Weasley. Somehow, the woman extruded a sense of warmth, as if Pansy could tell her anything in the world. But the other part of Pansy, the part weighed down by principles and rules ingrained in her since birth, obstinately refused to break down her defences and let Molly Weasley in.

"_It's been a week. Why hasn't he awoken?" Pansy stood up immediately as the Healer walked into the room to perform the daily check-up on Harry. "_Reprehendo_." A pale blue light surrounded Harry's body for a moment before fading off. They performed that spell every day to ensure that all his other bodily functions were still functioning well while he lay in that comatose state._

"_Mrs. Potter, you have to understand. Mr. Potter was hit by half a dozen of dark spells, all casted by highly-skilled wizards. He will need time to come round. Be patient. He needs your support most now," the Healer explained gently. _

"_How much time will he need? Another week? A month?" Pansy demanded._

"_We're not sure, but we can only hope that it will be as soon as possible," the Healer said. She opened the cream file that she was carrying. A piece of parchment flew out, landing on the floor in front of Pansy. Her eyes caught the words 'uncertain', 'unlikely to ever heal fully', 'more observation needed'…_

_Pansy picked up the parchment and thrust it in front of the Healer's face. "What do these mean? Why don't you have any concrete statements here? Why are there only uncertainties written here?" Pansy asked one frantic question after another."_

"_Calm down, Mrs. Potter—"_

"_How can I be calm? All these statements are pointing that Harry will never get well soon! What kind of Healers are you?"_

"_Mrs. Potter—"_

"_Get out! You'll don't know anything! He's going to wake up! Harry will get well! Get out! Get out!" a hysterical Pansy screamed, a trail of angry tears running down her face. The Healer shot her a pitying glance before leaving Pansy alone in the room. She sank to the floor, the parchment crushed angrily in her palm._

_She didn't notice the door open and close, a flash of red hair briefly seen before disappearing. _

Pansy looked sadly at her husband and spoke.

"Molly Weasley just came to visit you Harry. Though there are not as many visitors as last time, there are still people eager to see you wake, to see you walk and talk, and do what you do best. Please, Harry, please wake up. If not for me, then for this baby inside of me. I don't want it to grow up never having a father. You told me how often you always wished for a father, and now, you want to deny your own son that privilege? You can't do that." Pansy's voice rose as she declared that, but still, Harry's eyes remained close, not a muscle twitched. Tears prickled at her eyelids and she blinked angrily. She was worried, worried that he would never wake up, or wake up finally when their baby was grown up, and no longer needed any father to guide him. She didn't want the baby to grow up without the chance of having any fatherly presence. That seed of doubt was growing, as much as she trampled it down each time, but it still persisted.

Sometimes, her thoughts would grow wild when she was alone at home. What if Harry decided to give up on living on day, tired of being in his state in the hospital bed? What if he never woke up and she was left alone for the rest of her life? Pansy wondered how it would be like to raise a child on her own. She had no experience, neither did Harry, but they had made a promise to the unborn child that they would do the best they could, yet now, as the days passed, Pansy wondered if Harry would keep his end of the promise. The thoughts frightened her, though she never showed or told anyone about them. She needed to be strong, and keep up her façade. No one should ever doubt her loyalty to Harry, she thought fiercely.

But she was now nearing the end of her second trimester. In a few months, the baby would be born, which was why these fears occupied much of her thoughts when she was alone. As much as she didn't want people to know, Pansy Potter needed very much comfort from a person to appease her worries and self-doubt. In the past, it had been the Slytherins, then, it had been Harry, but now there was no one. She was truly alone.

Why? Why did he choose to become an Auror? With such high risks and a family to look after? It wasn't fair to their family. It wasn't fair to her. In the emptiness of the room, tears finally fell from her eyes.

"_We're going to have a baby?" Harry's bright green eyes lit up. Pansy nodded, a grin threatening to break onto her face. She had been anxiously waiting to tell him all day, ever since she had gone to St. Mungo's for a check-up._

"_How long have you known?"_

"_Since this morning."_

"_I can't believe in nine months, there'll be a baby in this home. Someone to teach about Quidditch…" Pansy wrinkled her nose at that suggestion. "And the baby will be about to go to Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron's kids too!"_

_Harry's voice got more and more excited as he rambled on about their unborn child's future. But then, he stopped._

"_What if I'm not a good father? I've never had a father to look up to. What if I can't teach the baby well? What if…" His voice was laced with apprehension and self doubt. Pansy stood up from where she had been watching the previously happy scene and walked over. She hugged her husband tightly._

"_You won't be," she said confidently. "Look, you've had so many great father-figures to learn from: Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore… I trust that you'll be a great father. Dinner's ready. Let's eat." Pansy soothed him; sometimes, he just needed some confidence in himself._

_That night, just before they fell asleep, Harry mumbled something tiredly._

"_I don't want to be a bad father…"_

"Mrs. Potter." A mediwitch stepped into the room. Pansy hurriedly brushed the tears away with the back of her hand and performed a quick '_scourgify_', making sure there were no traces of her small breakdown.

"Visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow morning," the mediwitch told her gently. Pansy turned to the mediwitch, nodding stiffly. She gave one long glance to her sleeping husband before leaving the room.

The mediwitch performed the last of the daily check-ups on Harry before leaving the room as well. The room was finally without people for once in the day. The silence was deafening, exaggerating the gloomy atmosphere in the room.

Just then, there was a sound, barely above a whisper. The voice sounded as if it had been unused for many months.

"Pansy…"

And silence filled the room once more.


End file.
